


Better Halves

by Original_Cypher



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Character Study, Family Feels, Futur Fic, M/M, Pack Feels, accidental fluff, adult characters, could or could not be a human au, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/Original_Cypher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you were with a guy... did you ever miss girls?"</p><p>***</p><p>Moments in Stiles' life leading to a night in with the gang. Tomorrow's a big day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Halves

“ _What do you mean_ seven sharp _?”_

Stiles sighs into the phone. “Um… Pretty sure I mean ‘seven sharp’?

“ _In the morning?!”_

Stiles shrugs, though it can’t be seen. “Well, yeah, Der. In the afternoon would make us pretty late.”

“ _But…. That’s_ insane _. What are we gonna do? Build a castle?!”_

Stiles barks a laugh. “Heck if I know. Hell, maybe. You know, one of those inflatable ones? That'd be cool. El would love it. Anyway, I don't think we can avoid it. You know how Lydia gets when she’s in party planning mode.”

“ _I could-….”_

“Nope. Not flaking out.”

“ _What if I-…”_

“You can’t tell her you’re busy, she knows you took the day off. _For the party._ ”

“ _There has to be a way-…”_

“Neither. If she smells a fake excuse, she will come in person to drag you out of bed. By your hair. It’d be a pity. I’ve seen how long it takes you to get it that perfectly shaped.”

“ _Dick.”_ There’s a moment of quiet. Stiles hears Derek exhale and a door creak. Smoke break is over. _“So I’m getting up at six am on a day off, huh?”_

“Looks like it, dude.”

“ _You better make me some wicked good coffee.”_

Stiles gapes. “Why me? Lydia’s the slave driver!”

“Wicked _good,”_ Derek growls.

“And banana muffins. Promise.” Stiles smiles fondly to himself. He finds the knowledge of Derek's weaknesses particularly enjoyable.

“ _Aw… You care.”_

“Shut up. I just like to see a smile on this sour face. Makes you look goofy as fuck.”

“ _I do not loo-…”_

Stiles hands up with a laugh. Derek won't be mad. And on the off chance he is and still feels grumpy when he gets here tonight, Stiles is pretty sure there _are_ emergency banana muffins in the kitchen. His train of thought gets interrupted by someone bouncing in his line of sight. “What's with the sneaking off to talk on the phone?”

Stiles flounders. “I... You were watching. I didn't want to talk over the-...”

“Pshh...” she says and grabs his hands. “Come on, you're missing all the explosions.”

Stiles tries to remember how many time he's seen the Die Hard series, smirking, and lets himself be dragged back inside.

 

 

@@@

 

The couch is a trap. Granted, it's meant for you to be comfortable once you're in it. But this one makes you never want to get up again. Maybe she _is_ comfortable right here, settled with her back against Stiles' chest. Maybe it makes her feel safe like when she was a little girl and she didn't have to worry about declaring majors and figuring out who the fuck she was. She does have things she should be doing, however. Stiles has things he should be doing. Things that have a 'tonight' deadline on them.

And yet. The couch.

Even if whatever channel she flicks on is bo-ring.

Stiles snorts at the next one. “Seriously? They're still rerunning Glee?”

She contemplates for a moment, and sets the remote aside. This is old school. Like 2010's old school. It's fun. It also... “Dad?”

Stiles nudges her temple with his nose and presses a kiss there. “Yes, honey?”

"Did you always know?"

"Yes. I did,” he answers with confidence. “I always know everything.” He pokes her ribs when she laughs. “You're gonna have to be a bit more specific."

Santana's a pretty girl. She just... "Did you always know you were bi?" Her question is met by silence, Stiles' hand stills in her hair, then resumes stroking. “Should I... not have asked you that?”

"No, El. Always,” Stiles says quickly. “ _Always_ ask me. Anything. I was just... thinking about it.” She gives him a few seconds, and he starts talking. “No. I don't think I always knew,” he admits. “But I think I always was.” A beat. “And when I realized that, I sometimes felt like I should have known all along." She nods. "Does that help?"

"Yeah," she says. “But... doesn't it feel weird? I mean, different?"

There's a huff of amused breath and Stiles' chest jolts her with the movement. "I'm not sure what you're asking, but I've always been one way, so I can't tell you if it's different from... other ways."

She grins. Her dad and his words. She clarifies. "When you were with a guy... did you ever miss girls?"

"When you're with Michael, do you ever notice other boys?"

"Dad!"

He holds up a placating hand in the air. To no one, since she's got her back pressed to him. "I didn't mean you wanted to cheat or anything. But you still have eyes. You must meet some that make you think 'yup. If I wasn't in love, I'd definitely be looking twice'.”

"Yeah. I guess." Stiles can spot a lie a mile away, anyway.

"And that actor crush of yours Mike keeps moaning about."

She cackles, kind of glad he can't fully see how much she's blushing.

"It's the same for me. For... people like me."

"But it's...” She pauses. “Can I be crude?"

Stiles snorts. "Please, this isn't scarring enough."

"You're with Pops, right? You've been... for a long time."

"I have." She briefly wonders if he thinks her not bothering to do the maths is an attempt to spare his feelings about his age.

She sits up, looks down at where he stays sprawled against the arm rest, expectant. "Don't you ever miss pussy?"

"Ow!" the father cringes, nose wrinkling. She laughs again. Then Stiles seems to think about her question and grows thoughtful, sighing. “I guess... I sometimes think about it. I may... on occasion... have 'alone time' that will include imagery of definite female persuasion." She makes a face. “Hey, you went for the underbelly, sweetheart. I'm giving it to you.” She sticks her tongue out at him. Nobody said they had to be grown ups about this. He watches her face. “It's never been a problem for me. I guess... it could be. For some. I can't say I think it never happens to anyone, but... I can only tell you about me.”

"Hm."

Stiles pinches a strand of her hair between thumb and index and tugs gently. “What brought this on?" She chews at her lip. She can tell the exact moment he picks up on her worry. “Ella?”

Shit. "Papa."

Stiles tilts his head to the side, listening. "Did you ask him the same things?"

"No. I know.... I know it's always been guys for him.” She stares at a button on his shirt. “I think he's scared."

Stiles eyebrows twitch. "Scared? Of what?"

"Losing you. To a woman."

Another derisive snort. "That's ridiculous.” He gives her a grin, bright and reaching his eyes. He presses a finger to her forehead. “Don't you worry your pretty little head about that."

"He does."

Stiles' smile falters. "... did he tell you that?"

"No,” she says, quiet. “But sometimes I can see."

"Are you... Ella, are you serious?" Stiles pushes himself up on his elbows, sitting up.

She crosses her legs in the space liberated, twists her hands in her lap. “It's funny, because you both look at guys, and when he does, you make fun of his taste.” A brief flash of a grin colors her face, she doesn't look up. “And when _you_ do, he doesn't seem threatened at all. But when you glance at women...” She gnaws at her lip again. “there's this look on his face like... like he's scared. Like he's waiting for the moment you get tired of him."

She doesn't dare looking up. Stiles stays silent, motionless next to her. She wants to take it all back. She wants to go back to cuddling and lazy August Fridays-off-work. She can't undo it! She fucked everything up and now-... “Jesus Christ,” Stiles breathes out.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I don't wanna-..." she hurries out, eyes wet and meeting her father's.

He catches her flailing fingers firmly. “Shh... Honey. Don't you feel bad about this.” He gives her hand a gentle squeeze and shakes it a little. “You... you shouldn't even have to think about this.” He gives her a reassuring smile. She didn't do anything wrong. Stiles lets out a shaky exhale and looks through the bay windows. Ella thinks she might be seeing pain and fear in his profile. She hates that she did this. “I just... I really, really hope you're wrong.”

 

 

@@@

 

Stiles wriggles his toes in the grass. The lawn needs to be mowed soon. “Jackson and Derek said seven? I know Scott doesn't get off till six thirty, so with the drive he'll be a little later. Isaac should be here in an hour or so. Erica and Lydia can't make it. Allison's probably gonna catch a ride from Der, he said.”

“ _Okay.”_ Boyd says at the other end of the line. _“Oh, there it is.”_

“There's what?”

“ _They still have the same wine we tried last time. I thought everybody liked it.”_

Stiles' eyes widen. “Hell _yeah_ , you know we did.”

“ _Should I pick up a couple bottles?”_ Stiles bites his lower lip and tries to smother a grin. _“I'll take three.”_

“I love that we can communicate so well, Vern.”

“ _Don't call me that,”_ Boyd grumbles.

Stiles smirks. “You love it, buddy. You know you do.”

“ _I'll see you at seven,_ Jedediah _.”_

Stiles gapes, scandalized. “Ugh. I hate you.”

“ _You love me.”_ Boyd corrects. He's right, the asshole.

“There better be breadsticks, too,” Stile demands, and hands up.

He looks down at his phone as the screen goes back to dark and wonders if, somewhere along the line, the whole bunch of them should have started behaving more like adults as a group. The sound of heels coming down the stairs makes him smile. He thinks they've all been doing fine, adult business wise. They've managed to raise healthy, good kids that love them back. He can get away with sticking his tongue out at people and calling his friends names.

Ella grabs her coat and purse from the hall closet and meets him as he crosses the french doors. Sometimes, when she's smiling like this, all dimpled cheeks and twinkling eyes, she makes him think of Allison. “I'm off, Dad. Don't party too hard.”

“This isn't 2015 anymore, honey. We've matured.”

“Mhm,” she hums as he kisses her forehead. They both know the half truth behind that statement. “I'll be back tomorrow for dinner, ish.”

“Sure.” She gives him a peck and walks away. Then twirls back around and plants her lips on his other cheek. “That one's for Pops.”

“I'll pass it along.” He watches her float away with a smile. He's never been more proud of anything in his life. His little girl, becoming a woman more and more every day, right under his very eyes. “Say hi to Mike for me.”

“Sure thing, Daddy-o!”

 

 

@@@

 

Stiles likes the end of the summer best. It's starting to get mild enough to be able to reach out and touch people, to huddle on the couch in a pile of limbs. But it's not chilly enough yet to do anything but walk out of the shower and collapse back into bed, not even bothering to pull the sheets back up. He lets his fingers trace up and down the smooth expense of skin that is offered to him. Glides down a sternum, swirls around a navel – that always gets a little ticklish squirm and a whine. He cards his fingers through a treasure trail.

“We should probably get up. People are coming over in a few. I think they expect some kind of nourishment.”

“Mmrf...” Stiles feels very eloquent.

Neither of them moves.

The hand combing through his hair stills, then gently pokes at his scalp. “Oh. I meant to tell you earlier. Scott called about El's birthday present. He wants to know if we're still doing the surprise party at Lydia's. Because if we are, he'll need to bring it over early. It... apparently needs some setting up. Or... I think 'securing' is what he said?”

Stiles grins as he tries to imagine what his best friend has managed to think up _this time_. “Did Scott finally figure out how to give a girl the present of her dreams and picked _Ella_ to give it to?”

“And what would that be?”

"Dude, you know that. Everybody knows that.” Stiles raises his head to state the universal truth. “Every little girl wants to be a princess and own a pony."

He snorts. "Ella doesn't want to have a pony." Then tenses and pushes up on his elbows. "Does Ella want a pony?"

Stiles meets his eyes. "Zack?"

"What?" He's grinning, which goes to show how short lived his mock terror just was.

"I love you with everything I have." Isaac blinks back, his smile fading away into attentiveness, puzzlement. "You know that right?"

"Stiles?"

"You know that, _right_?"

"Yes, babe. I know you love me." Isaac's hands are back on him, as if to make sure he's not going anywhere. He looks worried. "What's this about?"

"Ella thinks you're afraid of losing me."

Isaac rests his head back on the pillow, meeting Stiles' eyes calmly. "I'm always afraid of losing you. Both of you. I count my blessings every day." He's sincere, simply stating a fact. Stiles would yank him in such a kiss if that were actually what he'd been asking.

"Ella thinks you're afraid of losing me to a woman."

Isaac closes his eyes briefly. For the instant it lasts, Stiles misses them so violently it _hurts_. It does even more when he sees Isaac swallow, and meet his gaze again before he asks, “Should I be?”

“No!” Stiles pushes closer, startles them both with his tone. He cannot physically stand the distance. He needs to show he's here. "Holy crap, how long have you felt that way?! Isaac, I'm..." Isaac is staring back, wide eyed and vulnerable and _fuck_ , still scared. Stiles reels himself in, stares down at the mattress to compose himself and gather his thoughts.

It probably takes longer than he thinks. "Stiles?"

Stiles nods and stops glaring at the sheets. He looks up, meets Isaac's gaze with has much honesty as he can. "I can't believe it took our daughter explaining it to me." He gives a shaky smile and leans in to press their lips together. He feels marginally better when Isaac returns the kiss as always. "Zack. I am happy,” he says. “Right now. With you. With Ella.” He reaches out to hide his tangle his index in a loop of blond hair. “With everyone around. There is _nothing_ I need that I don't already have." He stares into Isaac's irises until the other man relaxes. His expression warms, a minute shift in the muscle around his eyes. A hint of crows feet. A faint curl at the lips. Stiles feels around for his hand until Isaac meets him, and Stiles slides their fingers together. "I am not straight. I am not gay." He squeezes. "I am not bisexual.” He tugs until he can press his lips to their mixed knuckles. "I am in love. With you. My whole world...” he finishes. “It's perfect."

Isaac doesn't say anything for a while. They're not shy on pet names and affection, but it's been a while since either of them has made an actual _speech_. God, it _was_ a speech, wasn't it? A goddamn declaration.

Yeah, well... Some things are totally worth the chick flick moments. Stiles watches as Isaac stars moving again, trapping his lower lip between his teeth to try and keep in the smile that totally wins and explodes on his faces seconds later. Stiles giggles in response.

Oh _god_.

Isaac swallows, blinks back the tears neither of them will admit are there, then drags him in, burring his face against Stiles' cheek. He huffs, then nudges Stiles back because Stiles needs to see him. He needs to be looking at him when he hears this. "I love you so fucking much."

"Good." Stiles says. It's stupid the amount of relief that crashes on him. The happiness is making him dizzy. He presses as close as he can. Fuck the heat. “Cause I'd be completely lost without you."


End file.
